


open twenty-four hours

by kismetNemesis



Category: Friends at the Table (Podcast)
Genre: F/F, Gen, Season: Bluff City, Slice of Life, both ships mostly just implied
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-26
Updated: 2020-01-26
Packaged: 2021-02-27 08:08:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22413736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kismetNemesis/pseuds/kismetNemesis
Summary: The Masks gang heads out for some food after a mission.
Relationships: Elena Flores/Hilda Quick, Goldfinch/Waxwing
Comments: 4
Kudos: 20
Collections: Secret Samol 2019





	open twenty-four hours

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Steevieve](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Steevieve/gifts).



> The prompt was for post-mission cool down time for the heroes, so I couldn't resist the chance to write about some classic teen hangout shenanigans. Hope you enjoy!

“Do your wings ever get tired?” Elena asked. Hilda shrugged, and it made her wings glitter in the orange glow of a streetlight.

“Well, I’m pretty tired right now,” Hilda said good-naturedly. It made Elena’s stomach flip. All four of them were recuperating in an alley after defeating their latest “villain,” if they could even really call him that. He was a petty mugger who stole wallets and sometimes fries from people on the boardwalk. Appropriately, he was called the Seagull. 

“I’m not,” countered Franklin. “I wanna go out and do something.”

“It’s two in the morning,” Chanti chimed in. “Let’s just go back and get patched up.” For such a petty thief, the Seagull had taken a lot of tracking down and wearing out, and had been surprisingly good with a knife. No one was seriously injured, but it had been a pain in the ass.

“This is something my ten-year-old self would be horrified to hear me say, but I’m sick of the arcade.” Franklin crossed his arms. “Let’s go out.”

“Like, clubbing?” asked Hilda, interested. Elena imagined Hilda in the kind of dress people wear clubbing and closed her eyes for a moment.

“Oh my god, no,” Franklin laughed. “You’re all babies and nowhere’s going to let you in.”

“I will have you know I’m famous,” Hilda replied, but Elena could tell she was joking.

“If we must stay out, let’s get food,” suggested Chanti. 

“Yes!” Franklin jumped into the air. 

“Where’s even open this late?” Elena wasn’t much given to going out to eat, especially not when the streets of Bluff City seemed even more unfriendly than usual. She caught Hilda smiling at Franklin’s excitement, and thought to herself that there would be enough friendliness to make up for it. 

“I know exactly where,” said Franklin. 

\--

Twenty minutes and a giggly, slightly frantic walk later, the four of them were in a booth at Denny’s. The restaurant was mostly empty, and the waiter hadn’t seemed to recognize Hilda or even blink at her accent or wings. 

Elena hadn’t been sure whether she wanted to end up sitting next to Hilda or across from her, and for better or worse she was across from her, able to watch her as she arranged her wings so one hung out of the booth to give Franklin more space. Elena definitely couldn’t have coped with sitting next to him. His fidgeting was incessant.

“I have so many problems with that guy,” Chanti grumbled. She, even more than Hilda, looked out of place in the sticky red booth. 

“With Franklin?” Elena asked. Franklin threw a straw wrapper at her.

“With ‘The Seagull.’” Chanti made air quotes.

“Yeah, fuck that guy,” Franklin agreed. “Crime is bad.”

“It’s not just that. He has the audacity to pick a bird name, but he wasn’t even a bird, so I couldn’t do shit to him.”

Elena snorted. 

“I don’t know, I liked beating up a regular guy,” said Franklin. “I mean, someone with no meteor powers or anything. Like me. Except bad, and not good, like I am.”

“A name like the Seagull, it’s almost disrespectful to Waxwing and Goldfinch,” Chanti continued. 

“No one’s got a monopoly on bird names, _Grouse_ \--” 

“What can I get y’all tonight?” the waitress interrupted, and Franklin slapped a hand over Hilda’s mouth.

After they all ordered (pancakes for Hilda and Chanti, burgers for Franklin and Elena), Chanti glared at Elena. “Not all of us are open about our identities.”

“Sorry,” said Hilda. 

There was a tired, tense silence for a minute. 

“Oh, god, Elena, are you alright?” Elena felt Hilda grab her hand from across the table and startled. 

“What? Why?” 

“You’re bleeding.” Hilda gently turned her hand over, and Elena felt woozy for a second. She was bleeding, a long score on her forearm. As soon as she noticed it, it began to itch.

“I guess he got me with his knife a little,” Elena said, more focused on Hilda’s fingers on her wrist. “It’s no big deal.”

“I knew we should have gone back to the arcade,” said Chanti. “Shit, I don’t even have any bandaids.” She half-stood, searching for her purse

“I’m fine,” Elena insisted. 

“We can’t leave. We haven’t gotten our food yet. What?” Franklin shrugged, unfazed by the looks Hilda and Chanti shot him. “She said she was fine.”

“I am, and I don’t need anyone to fuss over me,” said Elena, even though she very much wanted Hilda to keep fussing over her. She sent her a sidelong glance, admiring the way her long fingers tapped elegantly against the linoleum. 

“I do have bandaids,” Chanti said triumphantly, emerging from her purse. “You win this time.”

“Geez, I’m not the villain here. Ooh, our food!” Franklin hurriedly pushed the tower of condiments he’d been making aside to make room, and the top popped off a salt shaker, spilling directly into Chanti’s open purse. 

\--

By the time they were finishing, everyone was in better spirits. Peace had been brokered when Franklin gave Chanti his pickle, and Elena was sleepily picking at the three bandaids on her arm. She was thinking about her bed when Chanti stiffened beside her.

“Is that Waxwing?”

All four of them turned to look at the door. The rest of the restaurant was deserted at three in the morning, but Waxwing was still in full costume, albeit looking a little less heroic than usual. 

“Why is she here alone?” Hilda whispered.

“I don’t think she has anyone, anymore,” said Chanti meaningfully. 

“Except you,” said Franklin, speaking at full volume until Hilda shushed him. “Go say hi.”

“It’s unspeakably sad for someone to be here alone at this time,” Elena added, sliding out of the booth to let Chanti up. 

Chanti seemed to see the wisdom of this. Elena watched her walk over, but didn’t try to listen to their conversation. It felt dishonorable, somehow. 

“Do you think she followed us here?” asked Hilda. “And maybe she’s going to tell us we shouldn’t have been so hard on the Seagull?”

“I think we were the right amount of hard,” Franklin countered. “If anything, we’re getting a promotion.”

The waitress dropped off the bill, and Chanti came back, her expression unreadable.

“Well?” 

“She...” Chanti put her hand on her chin. “She’s fine. She’s just here for personal reasons.”

“What kind of personal reasons could she possibly have?” Franklin snuck another look at her.

“She used to come here with Goldfinch.”

“To this _Denny’s_?” 

“Don’t look at me. So who’s paying?” asked Chanti. “I can pay you back, I just never bring cash on a mission.”

Elena and Hilda looked at Franklin.

“Why me?” he asked, indignant. 

“We’re in high school. We don’t have credit cards.”

“Fine, but you are all Venmoing me,” Franklin warned. He patted his leg, looking for his wallet. “And it’s not a credit card, it’s a checking account--where the FUCK is my wallet?”

After a moment, Franklin fished something out of his pocket and put it on the table. Elena leaned forward to read it. It turned out to be a piece of torn hotel stationary, with a simple message written on it: _The Seagull wins this round!_

“Noooo!” moaned Franklin, slumping forward onto the table. “He got me!” 

“You realize what this means, right?” Hilda said, her voice quiet and serious. “One of us has to go ask Waxwing, legendary hero of Bluff City, to pay for our Denny’s.”

**Author's Note:**

> No, I don't know why I've written about Denny's for Secret Samol two years in a row. Also, thanks to Harpydora for the idea of The Seagull! :3


End file.
